“Why are you suddenly being pleasant to me after being a giant bitch for the last few days?” Yup, I said it. I don’t care. I’ve had it.
“We’re all here for different reasons, Ashley. Not all of us have great reasons for being where we are, okay?”
“And I suppose you can’t share your reason with me?”
“Not now.” Yeah, I figured. “You’re here to focus on earning a living. Do just that and forget about the rest.”
“It’s hard to ignore ‘the rest’ when I’m being hunted by these hungry men all day.”
“They aren’t hungry. They’re just a little lonely.” Aw, she makes them sound so sweet and not as terrifying as a goddamn horror movie. Put a Freddy Krueger mask on one of them, and there I am, smack dab in the middle of an all-time unthinkable horror movie.
Chapter 12
Beyond my plan torun as far away from this crazy town as I can get, I have to remind myself that I have nowhere to go and I don’t have a whole lot of money even if I had somewhere to go. Therefore, I need to show up to my first shift at The Clam Pit this morning, start work, and keep my focus on just that.
At least the restaurant is outside of the development, and I can get a break for a while.
Noah is manning the hostess-stand, alone, when I arrive for my shift. He has similar attire to what he had on yesterday, but with a coral pink shirt instead of the navy blue. The pink brings his eyes out and makes his tan look darker. Of course, nothing truly matters because his shirt is tucked in, and I’m fighting against looking down yonder. What is wrong with me? I’ve never been this way. Why do I even care how large his package his?
“Look at you,” he says, greeting me.
“I’m here and ready, boss.”
“Fantastic,” he says, handing me a menu. “Why don’t you review this and write down the specials, which are hanging up in the kitchen. After that, I’ve assigned you the section on the left side of the patio. I’m going to have Michael, one of the other waiters give you a quick overview of the register in about twenty minutes. Other than that, you should be good to start the shift. Let me know if you have any questions.”
“Perfect,” I tell him, feeling rushed and a tad overwhelmed. I’m no stranger to the fast pace of a restaurant, but after the time Noah spent “getting to know me” yesterday, I would assume he’d have more to say. Maybe this is a test to see how determined I am to be independently successful here. We’ll go with that.
In any case, I’m officially on the clock now, so anything he shared with me yesterday in the stairwell likely won’t be happening again. Hopefully.
The shift started slow since it was just before lunchtime, and the tables filled up at a pace that I was able to get back into the rhythm of waitressing. The environment and ambiance make a big difference compared to a hole in the wall diner.
While filling up a basket of rolls in the kitchen, a warm hand rests on my lower back. “How’s it going?” Noah, with his charming smile and delicious spicy scent, is standing directly behind me.
“It’s good. I think I’m getting the hang of everything.”
“Good, good. I’m glad to hear.” I continue filling the basket, but Noah doesn’t walk away. “You know what, can we have a quick chat in my office?”
I’ve only been here a couple of hours, and I can’t figure out what I’ve done that’s wrong enough to earn myself an office meeting the first day.
I place the basket down and follow his casual lead toward the icebox-looking door that leads to his office.
“So, about that interoffice relationship rule,” he says as we ascend the stairwell. I can’t imagine what’s to follow that loaded statement, but part of me would like to ask if it’s due to the hostess that he seems smitten by. However, that’s none of my business for so many reasons.
“Yes, I recall you mentioning that rule,” I respond.
“I made that rule back when I opened the restaurant. I’ve been devoted to my career, and I figured if that rule was in place, it would put a stop to any inappropriate behaviors that might grow between any of the employees.”
This is a lot of information to share within a stairwell that we’re slowly making our way up. “I think it’s noble that you’ve put your business first. It shows,” I tell him.
“With regards to that rule ...”
Can we step out of the stairwell before we continue this conversation?I want to ask.
“Yes,” I urge him to continue.
“Did you find it uncomfortable that I offered to take you on a tour of the area?”
“No, of course not.” Why would I find that uncomfortable? I thought it was very polite of him to offer to show me around downtown. Clearly, there is a lot of ground to cover by the looks of it. I think we might be thinking of two different types of a downtown area, however.
